Help Me Find a Way Out
by Mrs Rose Whitlock Hale
Summary: An 18 year old Samantha Nixon has been committed to a mental institution-but why is she there? Can she ever leave? Can the beautiful Joanne Masters help her find the answers? Will Joanne be able to keep her feelings for the beautiful Samantha under wraps? Will be JAM eventually!


_**Right, well, unfortunately, I am wide awake at half past 2 in the morning, due to illness. I am suffering from flu-just after I arrived back at the home I share with my partner, after being at my parent's house for just over a week. I will make this point-I suffer from severe depression, and because of other issues in my life, let's just say, it is not always easy. I am now receiving treatment, but because of the troubles I have with it, I thought I'd use it as a springboard for a new story.  
**_

_**I wanted to return to my routes, and what I love, so this is my premise: The young, respectable Miss Samantha Nixon is sent to a mental institution, but she can't work out why she is there. Can the mysterious Joanne Masters help her figure it out? But why is she there? And can she keep her feelings for her beautiful new inmate to herself?**_

Help Me Find a Way Out

At eighteen years of age; the respectable Samantha Nixon should have been looking forward to life beyond her parental home. A courtship, perhaps marriage and children would be hers in a few years time. Sat in the back of a hansom cab, she believed she was on her way to become a lady's companion-a lady who she'd met in the days previously, whom she had liked; she was friendly and kind. She knew her parent's had been acting odd lately, but when she asked they just said they were worried about her leaving their care.

Samantha felt the cab draw to a halt, and the driver leapt down from his seat to open the door and help her down. Taking his hand, she stepped down...only to be faced with a huge, long building-nothing like the manor house she had been led to expect. She saw the lady she had met previously approaching her from the direction of the building-Miss Penninson, Samantha believed she was called. A young man was escorting her.

'Hello, Samantha, dear,' Miss Penninson greeted the young woman, smiling broadly as she reached forward to embrace the now thoroughly confused young woman.

'Hello, Miss Penninson,' Samantha responded, letting Miss Penninson hug her but not hugging her back, mainly due to the confusion now gracing her petite features, but also due to an underlying sense of fear.

'Oh dear, don't worry. We will look after you now,' Miss Penninson told the young woman soothingly, whilst taking her arm, which to Samantha seemed a little forced. She was now very scared-this was nothing like she had been led to expect.

She went with Miss Penninson down the long path leading towards the unusual building she had first seen upon leaving the cab. She didn't have much choice-Miss Penninson had a strong hold on her arm. Then, she heard a heavy clanging behind her. She turned to find the young man locking huge iron gates behind her-and Samantha suddenly realised...she was trapped.

The young woman wrenched her arm from Miss Penninson's grip and flew towards the gates, rattling them, trying to open them, screaming at her two captors to let her go. But of course, the two people now grinning at this young girl's hysterical behaviour, had no intention of letting her leave. The young man stepped forward and wordlessly lifted her, carrying her bridal style towards the building, whilst Samantha consistently screamed at him to put him down and let her go. He did neither, seemingly gliding into the building whilst holding her in his arms.

He didn't put her down once they entered a long hallway-all too aware she would try to run away again. Instead, he continued to carry this screaming girl as Miss Penninson locked the huge wooden doors they had entered through behind her. Samantha, realising now that screaming was not going to get her anywhere, felt her fear and anger now turn to anguished tears. Not that either of the two people cared.

'Now, Samantha, I need you to listen to me,' Miss Penninson began, trying to get the young girl to at least look at her. Samantha wasn't having any of it. The older woman went on regardless. 'Your Mother and Father have sent you to this place to teach you things. Welcome to the Wildflower Institute.'

Samantha was now looking open-mouthed at the older woman. Institute? Why? Why had her parents sent her to an institute? They were for crazy people, surely, and she wasn't crazy. The man who was still holding her was now carrying her down the hallway whilst tears still rolled down her pale cheeks.

'There's nothing to be afraid of Samantha,' Miss Penninson carried on, brightly, as she whizzed down the hallway ahead of the man, 'We're here to look after you.' All this did nothing to ease Samantha's fears, and she continued to weep. As Miss Penninson led them to a small room, the man set Samantha on her feet. She fell to the ground, burying her head in her hands as she cried harder. She now came to the conclusion there was no way out.

'Now Samantha, we are going to give you some privacy. I'd like to take down your hair and remove your gown. We have a dress code here at Wildflower-all your fellow ladies will be wearing the same gown we are going to provide you with. Also, we will be cutting your hair- it's far too long now,' Miss Penninson was telling her, and Samantha immediately obliged, thinking it safer to do as she was told rather than refuse. She started removing the pins from her hair, letting it fall in soft waves down her back, whilst the tears still coursed down her pale cheeks. The older woman and the man left the room.

As Samantha worked on removing her dress, she took notice of her surroundings. A small, dark room. Grey garments stacked on shelves neatly, with grey slipper shoes lining the bottom shelves. Samantha was certain these were the clothes she would eventually be wearing. The single window had a window sill that looked like it hadn't been dusted in months. As she shed the gown, she opted to leave her corsets and petticoats on-there had being nothing mentioned about her undergarments. A knock on the door followed, and Miss Penninson entered, this time, alone.

'Well done Samantha-you'll find things a lot easier here if you do as you're told. Who knows, one day, you might be able to go home,' Miss Penninson told her-but Samantha didn't miss the word 'might'. However, it did give her hope. Samantha watched; her large, green eyes wide as Miss Penninson fetched a small sized grey dress from the shelf, holding it out to her. 'Put this on dear, and these shoes should fit too,' she now instructed, and Samantha complied, finding the dress a little big, but not uncomfortable. The shoes were a perfect fit, she found, as she pushed her feet into them. But, before she left the room she caught sight of herself in a dusty looking glass. She looked like a prisoner. Startlingly, she realised that was exactly what she was!

Miss Penninson entered through a door directly opposite the one they had just exited. That unnamed man was in there, holding a set of scissors, behind a chair. Samantha allowed herself to be pushed onto the seat, then watched, in horror, as her beautiful blonde hair was clipped away.

Miss Penninson then took her hand forcibly, led her from the room and down the corridor to meet the other inmates. Here, Samantha would possibly never know her fate.


End file.
